


Shadows of the Night

by Inzannatea (Zanna23)



Series: Phracking Inzane (PFF Series) [1]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Canon Compliant, Drama & Romance, Episode Tag, Episode: s01e13 King Memses' Curse, F/M, First Time, Phrack Fucking Friday, Season/Series 01, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 10:54:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11690142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanna23/pseuds/Inzannatea
Summary: Sort of an episode tag. Near the end of the episode of King Memses Curse. The new action takes place between Jack carrying Phryne out of the college basement and the unearthing of Janey Fisher.My first foray into PFF.





	Shadows of the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Big thank you to Scruggzi for the beta read!
> 
> Special thanks also to 221A_brina for her research assistance on the matter of Jack's chest hair.

“Phryne!” She could hear his voice calling from somewhere nearby, but everything was shifting out of focus. It sounded muffled and slow, but she could still tell it was Jack’s voice. Good. He was coming. She kept her waning focus on Foyle. “B-but... but you came willingly!” the bastard didn’t get it.

“I came willingly to find out what happened to my sister. And to rescue Jane and Jack. I didn't come for you,” She managed to sneer out at him.

“I only tried to lead the way,” he was pleading with her for what? Understanding? Mercy?

“You led the way to hell,” you sick bastard.

“Please! No.” he cowered. What did he expect? He summoned a  _ goddess, _ yet had no way to control her. Arrogant ass. 

“You're not headed for eternal life. You're going back to jail so you can hang,” as much as she wanted to smite him, she couldn’t give him the satisfaction. She turned to see the sweet face of her foster daughter. She was suddenly flooded with a mixture of love, grief, guilt, and whatever it was that was in that goblet, “Oh, Jane. I'm so sorry.” Between the drug and the adrenaline fading, her limbs suddenly felt as if they were filled with lead. She could no longer stand and she started to collapse. She never really relied on any man before, but somehow, she knew he’d catch her. Somehow, she knew he’d always be there to catch her. “Phryne,” he breathed out as he hoisted her into his arms.

Jack carried her out of the basement of the college and to her Hispano and carefully deposited her in the back seat. He instructed Jane to look after her for a few minutes while he talked to the constables who had just arrived on the scene. Phryne was dimly aware of Jack returning to the Hispano with Dot. She had no idea how much time had passed. They were talking about her. “She really needs to go to hospital, Miss Williams,” she heard Jack’s deep timbre arguing. “Miss Phryne won’t like that,” Dot argued, “She’ll want to be in her own bed with her own things.”

“We don’t know what he gave her,” he countered, “she should be checked out.”

Phryne couldn’t open her eyes but she needed to make her wishes known, “Take me home!” she cried out. There was a long pause. She heard Dot quietly in the distance, “Very well, Inspector. We’re agreed then.” Phryne felt the rumble of the engine and the car jerk into motion.

She must have drifted to sleep on the ride home. She drowsily opened an eye to see Wardlaw as she felt the car come to a stop. She felt Jack’s arms around her again as he lifted her out of the car and carried her into the house and up the stairs. Such strong, steady arms. She burrowed her head into his shoulder as he carried her, inhaling his  _ Jack _ scent.

He brought her into her boudoir and gently placed her on the bed. “Stay, Jack.”

He huffed out a short laugh, “Miss Fisher,” he admonished, “that is hardly appropriate.”

Dot was still in the room trying not to be part of this conversation. “Jack,” she pleaded, lids very heavy, “please—there are shadows here and—and I might not be up to the fight. Not alone.” She reached clumsily for his hand. She could see him battling with himself behind his eyes.

“I don’t know that I’ll be of much help fighting against the shadows of the night,” he protested absently toying with her listless fingers, “and besides, Foyle is in custody. He can’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.”

“Jack,” she pleaded one more time, meeting his gaze with tears in her eyes. He held her hand and her gaze for several long breaths.

“All right,” finally agreed, “I’ll sit here with you for a while. To chase away the shadows.”

He briefly left the room while Dot changed her mistress into her pajamas. When Dot left, Jack came back. Dot had turned out the light, so the only light source was that of the full moon. That light, however, made it almost too bright to sleep. He moved toward the chaise by the fireplace. “Jack,” she waved her arm towards him, “come sit by me on the bed.” He turned towards her and paused as if glued to the floor. She was tucked up under the sheet, excepting her head and shoulders and beckoning arm. Moonlight casting glorious shadows on her curves and angles.

It was a warm night. The windows were open and a light breeze helped keep the temperature tolerable in the room. Not for Jack. He pulled at his collar with a crooked finger and she watched his Adam’s apple bob as he stayed planted to his spot. “Jack?” she wiggled her fingers at him.

“It’s best…” he started in a hoarse whisper and then cleared his throat, “It’s best if I stay over here on the chaise, Miss Fisher.”

“Just until I fall asleep,” she bargained in a voice smaller than he’d ever heard from her. She watched as the last of his defenses melted away. The panic in his eyes shifted to softness. The tension in his shoulders eased just a fraction, but she saw the change.

“Just until you fall asleep,” he agreed. He moved over to the bed and sat delicately on the edge of it.

“I’ll fall asleep faster if you can relax a bit,” she pointed out—she felt reasonably.  He chuckled at her over his shoulder. He toed off his shoes and then swung his legs up onto the bed, sitting with his back against the headboard. “Better?” he asked.

“Better,” she responded, “it’s probably too much to ask that you get completely undressed,” she yawned at him, “but you could take off your jacket or loosen your tie.”

He reached up to his throat, “The clothes stay on, Miss Fisher,” he affirmed, “but I will loosen my tie, thank you.”

“Jack?” she reached up to his tie, feeling the maroon silk with cream designs (what was that, wheat? Bars?) between her fingers. He looked down at her. Her expression was open and adoring. His breath caught and he stopped moving, mesmerized by her.

“Yes, Miss Fisher?” his voice was barely over a whisper. The moonlight was doing wonderful things to the angles of his face, she noted.

“Why did you really kiss me in Café Réplique?” her voice was soft and sweet and sleepy, with just a sprinkle of naughtiness. From her vantage point looking up at him, she could see his breath start to quicken as he blinked at her in shock. The panic returned.

“I…uh…” he stammered, “as I said, I was…um… trying to distract you.” He tore away from her open gaze and shifted on the bed. In doing so he realized that she still had his tie firmly in her grasp.  He looked down at her hand—still on his tie—and then settled on her eyes again. He was in so much trouble. The expression on his face told her that he absolutely did not believe his own lie. He swallowed heavily.

“Mmm,” she agreed, “So you said. And it was  _ distracting _ ,” she was staring at his lips now, “but there would have been easier ways to do it, don’t you think?” she met his eyes again, “How could you have known how I’d react? So, why Jack? Why kiss me?”

He searched her eyes. She saw the light of self-awareness come on in his just before he finally spoke, his voice hoarse with emotion, “Because I wanted you,” she smiled softly at him causing him to glance down at her lips again, his breathing was even heavier.  His eyes were dampening as he tried to work out what was going on. His pupils were completely dilated with a mixture of the darkened room and desire, but he was desperately, hopelessly confused, “why did you kiss me back?” his voice a scratchy whisper.

“Because I wanted you, too,” she confessed, sliding her hand up his tie to his face, she rested her palm on his cheek, “in fact, I still do. Uncontrollably.”

“Phryne,” his eyes were sad. Pleading with her not to toy with his heart. She knew he had been through so much with the divorce and, well everything. She sat up. “Kiss me, Jack.”

“Phryne, I…” he shook his head, breaking eye contact with her. She took ahold of his hand, stroking his fingers. “I almost lost you tonight, Jack,” he glanced at her, and then at their joined hands, “I almost lost myself.” She guided his face back to hers with her hand, still on his cheek, “Jack, I won’t break it.” He looked at her curiously. “Your heart. I won’t break it.”

He turned his lips to her palm and placed a kiss there holding her gaze. “Phryne, I don’t know.”

“Kiss me, Jack.” She moved closer to him, he was transfixed by her. He watched her lips as they moved closer to his. Without his permission, his hand floated up to the back of her head and pulled her to close the distance between them. Their lips met tentatively at first. Soft and warm. Cautious. This was not as bold as the stolen kiss in the French Café.

She darted her tongue out to lick at his lips. He took it as an invitation to do the same, and deepened the kiss. Her hand moved back to his tie and began to loosen it further. She unknotted it and then began unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt, never breaking their kiss. She managed to undo three buttons before he pulled away, “Miss Fisher,” he was panting, “what are you doing?” 

She moved her hands to his waistcoat and started working on the buttons there, moving forward to lick the slight cleft in his chin as she’d long wished to do. He grasped her hands at his buttons, stilling them. “Phryne, please,” he begged her. She looked up at him stunned, “Slow down.”

She looked at him, hurt. “I thought you wanted this. Me.” He tilted his head towards her and rested his forehead against hers, trying to get his breathing under control. “I did… I do,” he grimaced at his stumbling over his words, “I want you so much it is often physically painful,” he smirked at her and she smiled slightly, “but my wife left some time ago, and it has…” he paused searching for the right way to say it this.  She looked up at him and tried to help, “And it’s been a while?”  He nodded. She smiled at him and cupped his cheek again, she brought her lips to his and kissed him gently, “It doesn’t matter. I want you,” she tried to reassure him, “We can take our time. We can take more than a few times.”

He gave her a self-deprecating smile, “It’s a bit more than that, I’m afraid.” She looked at him curiously. He cast his eyes downward, but she forced his chin up to look her in the eye, “Jack,” she tried soothing him, “you are my partner. I trust you more than I have ever trusted any man. Please trust me.” He kissed her palm again, and nodded. He took a deep breath.

“My wife is…was…my former wife was… the only woman with whom I have ever been…intimate,” he said with a tight-lipped smile. “I don’t…I don’t want to disappoint you.” She smiled lightly and reached for his face with both of her hands, pulling his face to hers for a lingering kiss.

“You won’t,” she promised. Smoothing an errant curl away from his forehead.

“You don’t know that,” he protested, “We weren’t very— _ adventurous _ —in the boudoir,” She studied him closely, he began to feel uncomfortable under her gaze. “…though I’ve read a good bit.”  He added sheepishly.

“I’ll make you a deal,” she finally said huskily, “I’ll tell you what I want…where I want you to touch me. I want you to do the same,” she took his hand, first gently stroking his fingers with her own and then placed it on her hip, “Can you do that?”  He looked at her dumbly for a moment, “I don’t know, I’ll try.” She smiled at him. She moved her hands back to his waistcoat and began unbuttoning it more slowly than before. “Kiss me here,” she pointed to the part of her neck just below her ear. He leaned forward and covered her pulse point with his mouth, licking and sucking there. “Mmm. Yes, that’s it.”  She pushed his jacket and waistcoat off his shoulders. She returned her attention to his shirt, making quick work of the buttons. She pushed the shirt and braces off of his shoulders and helped him pull it off of his arms. She then yanked his undershirt out of his trousers and pulled it over his head.

She ran her fingers over his bare chest, lightly trailing through the wispy smattering of hair on his sternum and across his pectorals—watching delighted as his small nipples pebbled at the sensation. She traced her fingers along his well-defined clavicles. 

He moved his hands to the hem of her nightgown and began tugging it upward. She shifted to let him maneuver it up and over her head. He stared at her naked chest for a moment before he could think, and  _ without _ thought he lifted a hand to her breast and cupped it lightly, rubbing his thumb lightly over her nipple. Her sharp intake of breath caused him to start to move his hand away, and look up at her face startled, “I’m sorry,” he rasped. She grabbed his wrist to stop him from leaving. “No,” she stopped him, “that’s lovely, keep going.” He continued to lightly stroke her there. She leaned forward, again going to lick the small cleft in his chin, following with a gentle kiss, “Is this alright?”  He nodded, “Ye..” his voice scraped, “Yes.”  She continued kissing, licking, and nibbling along his chin until she reached just under his ear. She took his earlobe between her teeth and lips and sucked, “Uuunnhhh” he moaned. She breathed into his ear, “Good unh,” she asked in a low voice, “or bad unh?”

“Very…very…good,” he panted.  The light rubbing of his thumb on her breasts became rougher. “Jack?” she asked with a lick to the shell of his ear which was spurring a frenzy from him. “Hmm?” his name as a question broke him out of his trance. She pulled away slightly stroking her fingers across his chest. “Did you ever touch your former wife,” Her hand snaked down her own body and under her knickers, “here?”

Jack swallowed hard, looking her in the eye, “Only very sparingly,” he looked down in what seemed like shame, speaking in a gravelly voice. The divorce was still new. Still stung. Still hurt, “She said she didn’t like me to. When we were still…intimate…she was only interested in trying to conceive. I don’t think she took much pleasure in the act.” He said with deep sadness in his voice.

Phryne sat up on her knees and moved her hands to her undergarments. She slowly slid them down over her hips exposing her thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs. She removed them completely and then walked on her knees closer to him, placing her hands on his shoulders. He looked up at her.

“Touch me, Jack. Please.” He moved his hand between her legs and felt the silky, wet curls.

“How?” He looked at her with a mixture of trust and fear. She moved her hand over his and guided his fingers how she wanted him to move. She was getting very slick. Jack took a chance and moved his mouth to her breast which was hovering a hair’s width from his lips. “Mmm, yes, Jack!” she approved. He decided that he’d follow her lead and he tried a nip and then a lick on her nipple and was met with a groan of abject approval.  “Put your finger inside me,” she directed him. He pulled his mouth away and he looked up at her in wonder. She nodded at him. He slid his large middle finger between her folds into her soaking wet entrance, keeping his eyes on hers as he did so. He gently pushed into her warm and welcoming body. She rose up a little more on her knees to allow him better access to her core. He moved his finger experimentally up and down several times.  “Is this alright?” he asked.  “Mmm… Yes, Jack,” she confirmed, “you can go faster if you’d like. I won’t break.”

He picked up the pace. Clever man that he is, he tried moving his thumb to where she had directed his fingers earlier. That spot his wife hadn’t liked him to touch. He began making circular motions with his thumb against her clitoris. She gripped his shoulders, closing her eyes with a moan. He paused. “Did I hurt you?”

“Oh no, Jack,” she said, “You’re a very quick study. Keep going… you’re doing  _ very _ well.” She leaned her face down to his to kiss him deeply and he continued his actions. She needed more of him. “Add…another… finger…” she gasped out, still clutching his shoulders. It wasn’t going to take much more. For someone who had touched his wife only “sparingly”, he was doing an admirable job. He did as she commanded and the added pleasant stretch spurred her to start bouncing on his hand to show him the pace she needed for release. She came with a shout and he caught her as she slumped against him, his fingers still burrowed inside her core. He kissed the side of her head, “That was incredible,” he said softly, in awe, “I’ve never seen anything like that.”  She sat back, slightly recovered.

“Never?” He shook his head and extracted his hand from her. She gripped his wrist and brought his hand to her mouth, placing one of the soaked digits in her mouth. “That was incredible,” she agreed after cleaning herself off of one of his fingers. He watched her as if hypnotized. When she was finished, he brought the second to his mouth and sucked it in. His eyes closed in delight as he hummed out delicious approval.

She needed him now. She motioned for him to stand and moved her hands to his trousers. She made quick work of the fastenings and pushed the trousers off his hips. His erection pushing heavily against his smalls. She unbuttoned his smalls and took out his cock, handling it expertly. “Mmm… Jack,” she said looking up at him from her kneeling position on the bed as she grasped his erection, “this will fill me nicely.” She smirked up at him as she rubbed her grip up and down his length.

His eyes were struggling to focus and his mouth was agape as she worked her hands over his cock. “So… good…”

She noticed he was swaying and she moved her hands to his hips and made him step out of his trousers and smalls, and then pivoted him to set him on the bed, pushing him back against it. He seemed dazed at the flurry of activity, but refocused to catch her hips as she straddled him, hovering just above his bobbing cock.

“Are you sure you want this?” she asked him as her opening was poised at the tip of his cockhead. He reached up to stroke her face, and trailed his fingers down her torso. “More than anything,” he whispered.

She sank onto his length and then rose again, almost leaving her mooring before crashing back down. He closed his eyes against the sensation. She leaned forward to still the motion, keeping him seated inside her and kissed him deeply. Her arms circled his head and she toyed with the loose locks of hair over his forehead, “You feel,” she ground down on his cock slowly, “wonderful inside me, Jack.”

He growled a little, and pulsed his hips, “And you feel rather magnificent surrounding me, Miss Fisher.”

She moved her mouth down his jaw towards his ear again, wondering if she could elicit another frenzy. She traced the shell of his ear again with her tongue, “You really should call me Phryne when you’re fucking me, Jack,” and then she took his earlobe between her teeth and sucked it hard. She felt him tense, and his hips buck. His hips started moving uncontrollably, pounding relentlessly into her from underneath.  He bent his knees, placing his feet flat on the bed to give his powerful thighs more leverage and continued to thrust.

She gripped the edge of mattress above his head and slammed against him, reveling in this frantic fucking. His shift of position bringing his knees up allowed his cock to hit her in ways she wasn’t expecting and she could feel the pressure building, muscles tensing deliciously. She thrust herself on his cock, slamming back into his powerful thighs. “Oh… oh… Ja…uh… uh… Jack… I’m coming… Jack… I’m…” a flood of pleasure cascaded through her radiating from where they were joined, rippling through her muscles in waves of release. A moment later, she presumed from the spasms massaging his cock, his own motions became devoid of rhythm as he gasped audibly and spilled his own release.  She collapsed on top of him and he wrapped his arms around her holding her fast to his chest, his softening cock still inside her. She lifted her head to look at him, not quite sure what to say to him now. She once again moved that wild, errant lock of hair off his forehead.  _ That pomade really has its job cut out for it! _ She marveled. She realized he was looking at her and the sadness was back in his eyes. She moved forward and kissed him again with meaning. With, not  _ promise _ exactly, but— _ hope? _ —hope. Or at least she tried to convey that. Hope.

Phryne rolled to Jack’s side and the circle of his arms. She tucked her head on his shoulder and placed her hand on his heart. She was suddenly very sleepy and wanted nothing more than to spend the night wrapped in his arms.

“Will you still be here when I wake up?” she asked tentatively.

“Would you like me to be?” he volleyed.

“More than anything,” she snuggled into his embrace.

“Your wish is my command,” he kissed the top of her head and she drifted into contented slumber.

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing she realized as she woke was that Jack wasn’t in the bed with her. “Jack?” she said almost without thought. It surprised her how much that stung her that he’d gone after he promised to stay. After the night they shared, she had thought to have him here to ravage again. She normally wanted to wake alone, but she thought she’d been clear. She wanted to have him here with her. He was different. She didn’t know what they were. Partners certainly. More she couldn’t promise him or herself.

The second thing she realized—and really the more alarming—was that she wasn’t in her bed. The sheets felt wrong. She put her hands to either side and realized the bed she was currently occupying was significantly smaller than her own.

The third thing she realized was that this wasn’t her house. She opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling. It was much further from her than she expected and had a cold, clinical look to it.  _ Hospital. _ Floated through her mind.

A sound from her left startled her and she turned her head. In the corner of the room, a disheveled Detective Inspector Jack Robinson was slumped in an uncomfortable looking chair.  He was still fully dressed. Still wearing the clothes he wore last night. The clothes she had taken off of him.

He was slowly blinking at her, mouth agape, “Phry…um… Miss Fisher,” he stammered, “you’re awake,” he dropped the book which had been perched in his lap and stumbled as he stood. His hair was tousled and loose of all his usual pomade. He had a bandage at his hairline where he parted his hair. “How are you feeling?” he asked her in a gravelly voice, thick with sleep, as he came to her bedside.

She reached for his hand and he unconsciously let her take it, “I thought you took me home?” she asked him.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized softly. And he was, “I know you wanted go home, but I didn’t know what Foyle gave you. Miss Williams and I decided to take you to hospital.” 

She looked at him completely confused. But last night? “But I remember you taking me home!” she insisted, “You carried me up to my room. And …”

He narrowed his eyes at her and gave her a half grin, “And what, Miss Fisher? I have never been in your room,” he tried to calm her, “we came straight to hospital,” he studied her carefully trying to figure out what else it was she wasn’t telling him. She blushed and looked away from his gaze. He couldn’t recall ever seeing her blush before. It was he had to admit—to himself only, of course— _ arousing _ . He cleared his throat after admiring the spread of the pink across her cheeks and chest, and then continued, “The doctor said you’re fine though, you just needed to sleep it off.”

It was just a dream? It can’t have been just a dream. Phryne looked down at their joined hands. It felt so real. These hands felt so real. These long fingers felt so real. Her mind drifted back to the wicked shadows of the night. To their night that never was.

“Phryne?” his gentle voice cut through her daydream, “Are you alright?”

She smiled sadly at him, “Yes, of course. Thank you for staying with me, Jack.” He nodded at her and then looked away. It was his turn to blush.

“Oh… um… there’s more,” he was trying to change the subject from  _ why _ he stayed. It may have been a dream, but the feelings seem to be there for him as well.  _ Interesting _ , thought Phryne. “we think we may have found the area Foyle was talking about. The willows by the river.”

“Oh,” tears came quickly to her eyes, “I see.”

“If you don’t want to…” he started

“I need to be there, Jack,” she cut him off, “I need to find her.”

“I know,” he acknowledged.

“Come with me?” she pleaded after a long moment. She realized their hand were still intertwined.

“Of course.”

 

* * *

 

 

They released her from hospital shortly after she woke. Jack drove her to Wardlaw and told her he would be back later in the afternoon to pick her up. They had to do some preliminary work before they were sure they had the right spot. She thanked him, aching to kiss him goodbye—struggling to remember that he would not understand why she had done that. She smiled and shook his hand instead. Even that earned her an arched eyebrow. Did they really touch so little?

Dot ran her a bath and she sank into it with less joy than usual. Cascades of emotion washed over her. Relief at stopping Foyle. Grief at learning Janey’s true fate. Confusion at her feelings for Jack. She crawled into the bed she thought she’d last shared with him, with Jack, and napped for a few short hours.

Jack and Hugh arrived mid afternoon and picked up the Wardlaw Women. They drove to the shady willows by the river and watched as the workman finally unearthed her. Finally found her Jane.

She didn’t even need to turn to see it was his hand on her shoulder. She recognized his touch. Memorized it through her dream.

She crumbled at the makeshift grave when it was clear the bones were her. Her little Janey. Janey who died instead of her. She reached back for him, knowing he’d be there. She never really relied on any man before, but somehow, she knew he’d catch her hand. Somehow, she knew he’d always be there to catch her.

 

* * *

 

He sat across from her at her kitchen table.

“So, if that's a true statement of events as you recall them...” he offered her his pen to sign the witness statement. This was really the end of Murdoch Foyle. Signed and soon to be sealed and delivered to hell.

“Aunt Prudence has organized for my sister to be buried in the family plot,” she tried to sound upbeat about it but the sadness crept in and tears flooded her eyes, “Janey died instead of me.”

Jack gave her a sweet smile, “So, you owe it to her to keep living to the hilt,” and then cocking an eyebrow, “Not that I noticed you wasting a moment.” Phryne held his gaze. It had been a few days and nights, but she couldn’t get the dream out of her head. She still remembered every touch. Every kiss. Every stroke.

“Excuse me,” Mr. Butler came in and picked up a tray of—something. They barely even noticed him.

Dot entered the kitchen next, “They're asking for you, Miss.” Phryne turned to her and nodded.

She looked back at Jack, “My birthday party.”

He nodded at her lightly and smiled, “Summer solstice.” She nodded in return and reached her hand across the table to take his, “Jack?” she queried as she lightly stroked his fingers. He lifted his eyebrows and stared for a moment at where her fingers were stroking his. He shut his eyes trying to suppress his reaction and finally choked out a rasping, “Yes?”

“Do you remember when I woke up in hospital and was confused that I wasn’t at home?” she asked lowly.

He looked up at her and his eyebrows again rose and then pinched together, “I…uh…yes,” he stammered, “I remember. You said you thought I carried you up to your room.”

“Yes,” she continued still stroking his fingers, he was beginning to realize the strokes were more deliberate than lazy, “It was rather more vivid than that.” She held his gaze meaningfully for a long moment as she continued to stroke his fingers, “You promised to stay all night.”

As her meaning began to dawn on him, the color in his face started to redden, he was struggling to keep his cool. “I see,” he barely managed to choke out.

“Thank you for keeping your promise,” she smiled at him. His mouth fell open in attempt to say something but nothing came out. Finally, he snapped it shut and merely nodded.

“Help me to celebrate.”  Jack nodded again. He was completely dumbstruck.

This woman would be the death of him.

He followed her into the parlor as she sashayed into the room, planting a light kiss on Dr. Mac’s lips as she entered. She picked up her glass and announced loudly, “More champagne, Mr. B!”

From across the room, she met his eyes and lifted her glass in silent toast. It might have been only dream, but from the look in his eyes, dreams could come true in the end.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by two primary sources. Shadows of the Night, made popular by Pat Benetar and the speech from Puck in A Midsummer Night's Dream by William Shakespeare
> 
> Shadows of the Night version by Pat Benetar  
> We're running with the shadows of the night  
> So baby take my hand, you'll be all right  
> Surrender all your dreams to me tonight  
> They'll come true in the end  
> You said, oh girl, it's a cold world  
> When you keep it all to yourself  
> I said, you can't hide on the inside  
> All the pain you've ever felt  
> Ransom my heart, but baby don't look back  
> 'Cause we got nobody else  
> We're running with the shadows of the night  
> So baby take my hand, it'll be all right  
> Surrender all your dreams to me tonight  
> They'll come true in the end  
> You know that sometimes, it feels like  
> It's all moving way too fast  
> Use every alibi and words you deny  
> That love ain't meant to last  
> You can cry tough baby, it's all right  
> You can let me down easy, but not tonight  
> We're running with the shadows of the night  
> So baby take my hand, it'll be all right  
> Surrender all your dreams to me tonight  
> They'll come true in the end  
> We're running with the shadows of the night  
> So baby take my hand, it'll be all right  
> Surrender all your dreams to me tonight  
> They'll come true in the end  
> And now the hands of time are standin' still  
> Midnight angel, won't you say you will  
> We're running with the shadows of the night  
> So baby take my hand, it'll be all right  
> Surrender all your dreams to me tonight  
> They'll come true in the end  
> We're running with the shadows of the night  
> So baby take my hand, it'll be all right  
> Surrender all your dreams to me tonight  
> They'll come true in the end  
> We're running with the shadows of the night  
> So baby take my hand, it'll be all right  
> Surrender all your dreams to me tonight
> 
> and Puck’s speech from William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream  
> “If we shadows have offended,  
> Think but this, and all is mended,  
> That you have but slumbered here  
> While these visions did appear.  
> And this weak and idle theme,  
> No more yielding but a dream,  
> Gentles, do not reprehend:  
> If you pardon, we will mend:  
> And, as I am an honest Puck,  
> If we have unearned luck  
> Now to 'scape the serpent's tongue,  
> We will make amends ere long;  
> Else the Puck a liar call;  
> So, good night unto you all.  
> Give me your hands, if we be friends,  
> And Robin shall restore amends.”


End file.
